


Hugs

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, My First Fanfic, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is very lonely and needs a hug. Sherlock is happy to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hugs

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Fanfic, I don't know how to tag so hope I have done it right, let me know any mistakes please. Kind comments appreciated x

John lay in bed thinking. It was almost 9 on a Saturday morning, the light was creeping in around his curtains and he could hear Sherlock downstairs playing a melancholy tune on his violin. He had been trying to remember the last time he had been touched.

He had been jostled on the tube and whilst trying to walk along the crowded streets of London plenty of times, and of course there had been that time a few weeks ago when he had nearly fallen into the Thames whilst chasing a suspect in one of their cases and Sherlock had grabbed his arm to pull him back, but none of those counted.

When had he last been touched with affection? He could only think it must have been back when Mary had still been around, before she had admitted that the baby wasn't his. There’d been protests of it only having been one time, and refusals to tell him who it had been. John had been let down and betrayed too many times to forgive this, and she couldn't even give a coherent reason as to why. At least when Sherlock had “died” it had been to save John's live, and when he had used drugs before his flight after Magnusson he had thought he was going to die. These were reasons that John could understand, not "we had too much to drink and it just happened." That was just not good enough.

So she had been gone for almost a year now, John had returned to Baker Street and life went on, but as he had awoken alone in his bed yet again this morning he realised that he needed more than this.

He shrugged on his dressing gown over his old grey pyjamas and headed downstairs.

Sherlock was standing in front of the window with suit trousers on and a white dress shirt, topped off by his blue silk dressing gown. As John entered the room he lowered the violin and raised an eyebrow, obviously able to tell that John wanted to say something.

In a small voice John said "Give me a hug."

Sherlock widened his eyes in confusion so John whispered "Please."

Putting the violin down carefully the detective walked slowly over to his friend and stiffly put his arms around him. John lifted his arms in response and settled them around the taller man's waist in a loose embrace, leaning slightly into him, and resting his head on his friend’s stiff shoulders.

Sherlock felt John relax and in response found some of the tension in his body leaving and the hug became less stiff as he pulled John towards him more firmly and rested his cheek on the crown of the shorter man's head.

"Why are we doing this John?"

"Because hugs are nice, and I just realised that I am very lonely."

"Ok."

"And I like you."

"Ok."

"No one touches me anymore." John sighed.

They stood like this for several minutes, until Sherlock said

"How long do hugs normally last John? Should we stop?"

"Do you want to stop?"

"No." Came the whispered confession.

"How long do you think you want to carry on?" John breathed back, and then held his breath waiting for the answer.

A reply so quiet John had to strain to hear it came back "I was thinking, maybe, the rest of our lives."

John let out the breath he has been keeping in and said a little more loudly "Sounds good to me." A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth.

Sherlock pulled John tighter as if to make sure he was still there, then pulled away a little to look into his friend's face. His teeth worried slightly at his bottom lip until he said "I don't want to have sex with you."

Johns expression was open and happy as he looked up and said "Good, me neither." Before closing the small gap between them and holding his friend tightly.

"But, what about when you get a girl friend?"

"No more women Sherlock, not anymore." John said firmly.

Sherlock was getting a little confused about this "But, but, you like sex John. What are you going to do?"

"I'll just take care of it myself. I would rather be with you than run off with anyone else." John felt his smile getting bigger. He had just promised to be celibate for the rest of his life, but found that if this meant he got to spend his life with this mad genius he couldn't have been happier.

Sherlock felt like his heart would burst he was so happy. He never thought that he would hear these things, had always expected John to leave him alone again one day. A smile lit up his face, which changed to a smirk as he thought of a suitably reply to Johns statement. He chuckled as he said "Lestrade always said you were a wanker."

John giggled and looked up at his friends smirk and pulled him tight enough to be uncomfortable in retaliation. "No he didn't."

"No he didn't." Sherlock gasped out around the constriction of his lungs, conceding the point. As John loosened his grip slightly he continued fondly "Don't ruin my joke."

They returned to resting against one another, both feeling happier than they could ever remember. After another 5 minutes of companionable silence Sherlock spoke in what John could tell was an impression of a worried tone.

"When I said for the rest of our lives John, I didn't actually mean that literally."

John huffed a laugh against his friend’s chest.

"It could be very awkward logistically." Sherlock continued. "For example I don't know how we would use the bathroom" John giggled more "or how I would play the violin." John was laughing more clutching at his friend. Encouraged by his friends merriment Sherlock continued "I think it could cause some comment at crime scenes as well." John’s legs almost gave out as he laughed harder at the thought of Lestrade, Anderson and Donovans' faces if they turned up at a murder still clinging to each other as they were now. Only holding onto his friend's sturdy frame prevented him from falling to the floor. "And I had always thought I would retire somewhere with bees, but I don't think apiculture will be possible like this."

At this last statement John's laughter stilled as the enormity of what they were agreeing to struck him fully. An arrangement to last until they retired, for decades to come. He thought about panicking, but then realised he was only thinking about it, not actually doing it. In reality he was totally calm in the face of this decision. He pulled out of his friend's embrace and gently squeezed his hand in acknowledgment of their promises. He tilted his face up, placed a soft kiss on his friend’s cheek and ruffled his hair with his free hand.

"Tea?" He enquired moving away to the kitchen.

"Yes please." Sherlock replied, retrieving his violin, and proceeding to play a cheerful tune.


End file.
